


Rivers and Roads

by Dannidorina



Series: RvB Fluff Week 2018 [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: 3tp, Amnesia, Bed Cuddles, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, I love Agent Maine he deserves the world, Multi, Recovery, Self-help, but recovering, livedpast13!maine, livedpast15!maine, remembering the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dannidorina/pseuds/Dannidorina
Summary: Sigma was just creative enough to build the failsafe, and just smart enough to do it before he was killed in the EMP. He thought it would just be a back up in case he wasn't there to save the Meta, but he had no clue it would save Agent Maine instead.Remembering takes a lot of effort, and a lot of hard work, but Maine is ready to try. There are two voices in the back of his head, whispering sweet nothings to him, and he wants to figure out who they were.He wants to go home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of RvB fluff week! This particular prompt was from DonutDarwin on tumblr, who requested "After the Meta "dies", an Epsilon-style save occurs: the AIs die but Maine lives, the last of their energy expended to save their "host". He goes back to find his old friends." I took a lot of liberty with this one, and since they requested it be Mainecarwash too, its more than friends ,':). I also included reference to a bunch of Anonymous requests I got for this ship in later chapters! Some being "Wash teaching the other two to skateboard", "Mainecarwash cooking together", and "doing each other's hair". I wanted this to be a compilation of all the prompts I got for this ship, so here it is :).
> 
> The fic is also inspired from one of my favorite songs, "Rivers and Roads" by The Head and The Heart. Go listen and let your heart melt!

He never liked ice. It wasn’t just because it was freezing cold and made him feel numb, but that it could break like glass and pierce through his skin like butter. Apparently, it could also rip through Kevlar.

Maine hit the ice with a sickening crack, the bullet wounds in his chest aching from the sudden impact. The ice crackled underneath him and split, opening up to the cold, icy water beneath. As Maine slipped through the opening into the blue depths, a shard of ice slashed through the Kevlar on the side of his suit, immediately filling it with water. The water drained through the hole quickly, filling every crevice it could find, making its way up to Maine’s head and mouth. Before he could think, his lungs were filling with liquid and his eyes watered against the sting of cold flooding his helmet. He couldn’t see, and his mind began to unravel with the immense pain.

Even though he felt like he was falling into oblivion, he felt like something else was not. As he sank, slowly losing his grip on life itself, there was an ache of familiarity on his neck. His AI were dead, gone and destroyed, but Maine could swear he felt something there. Before he lost consciousness, Maine could faintly make out a pulsing red light from his HUD in front of his eyes. And then he sank.

And sank.

And then stopped sinking.

* * *

 

**_A year from now, we'll all be gone_ **

**_All our friends will move away._ **

* * *

“Sigma was known for his creativity, Maine, you're lucky he thought about this probability as well.” A voice from seemingly nowhere piped up, “He was just creative enough to make sure that you didn't die without him present. Smart thinking.” Maine had been saved, from what he could tell, but now he was being held “hostage” on some unnamed spaceship. He replied to the voice with a grunt, his throat aching in response.

“You are a broken man, Agent Maine,” the voice from the module was warped and unclear, and Maine barely made out his own codename, “but you have something we need desperately. Your armor is unique in so many aspects, and it has qualities that our organization finds very useful.” Maine looked over to the armor laying next to him, guarded by a man in UNSC regulated armor with a very large gun.

“I believe I have a proposition for you,” the voice said, drawing back Maine’s attention, “We want your armor, and in return, we will grant you your freedom. No strings attached otherwise.”

Maine mulled the idea over in his head, thinking about what was next for him. If he declined, there was no doubt he would either be killed by this man, or he would be turned over to the UNSC for criminal charges. Slowly, he nodded.

“Good then,” the voice sighed, “then we will give you a pick at our armor supplies and let you get along your way. You’re going to need papers to become situated into society, but since Project Freelancer’s documents are still being decrypted, we don’t have your information.  Could you tell us your real name so that we can obtain your file?”

Maine paused, he didn’t actually remember his real name. In fact, he barely remembered anything before Sigma to do with his life or Freelancer. He tried his hardest to recall anything, but all he remembered was holding a smaller man in his arms and feeling content, feeling happiness when he thought of the color teal, and having two bodies of warmth around him when he slept. The memories were warped and unclear, not pointing to much of anything in his past, and making Maine feel painfully… lonely.

In sign, he responded, _I don’t remember_.

The module paused for a second, waiting for the translator he must have with him to speak up, then spoke again, “Then you can go by Agent Maine for now. In fact, we can put your papers on hold for as long as you like. I have lots of pull in the UNSC, so you should be fine. We will set you up on a small ship that you can use, give you your new armor, and send you on your way. How does that sound?”

Maine nodded once, content with the deal. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore, but at least this was something. However, there was a painful ache in his chest of wanting to lunge forward and grab his own EVA suit, but he restrained himself. Instead, he followed the set of guards next to him to their armory, ready to start whatever new life he was setting up for himself.

* * *

 

**_And they're going to better places,_ **

**_but our friends will be gone away._**

* * *

 

He first flew to a planet that he vaguely remembered visiting with Freelancer to refuel, a small oiling planet with a poor suburban outcropping for workers. Maine landed his ship on a UNSC landing dock, his plane given privilege by the mysterious voice that had helped him before. He exited the ship, wearing his new white armor. He would’ve put his signature orange on the accents like he did with the rest of his armor, but he didn’t have the materials to do so, and it didn’t feel like the right time yet.

Maine wandered throughout the city, his sheer size intimidating pickpockets and thieves to stay away from his incredibly new, expensive suit. Maine felt undoubtedly uncomfortable, his suit was tighter and was weighted differently from his last one. Not to mention his visor was significantly smaller from his last helmet. Eventually, Maine made it to one of the employment offices on the planet; they could always use more help from unnaturally strong individuals.

He had stayed there for a half a year. Maine left on a whim, leaving a note for the landlord on the door with a final envelope of rent, and informing his bosses that he’d no longer be showing up. He had spent six months on this shell of a planet, and he was becoming restless.

While he was staying there, working like a pack mule 24/7, he began to remember things. The thing he last remembered was enough to make him throw everything down and pursue his life before Sigma, he remembered names.

_Washington and Carolina._

* * *

 

**_Nothing is as it has been_ **

**_And I miss your face like hell_**

* * *

 

Like a ping pong ball, Maine bounced from planet to planet. He did odd jobs that others would find strenuous, and made enough money for food and gas. As he jumped around, he started to remember more, and it made him feel smaller and smaller.

He remembered things early in his life, when he had a full head of hair, and grew up in a bad part of town. He played football in highschool and lifted weights on the weekends. Then he remembered enlisting, how his mom was sobbing, begging him not to go, and his father nodding contentedly at his choice. He remembered general things from Basic, like a friend he had in the barracks, and how he was shot down in a training exercise gone awry. Then it was Freelancer, but not everything was back yet from then.

He remembered his bunkmate, the man he previously remembered as Washington, but now remembered as David. He also remembered the training exercises and missions they filtered the agents through, and the leaderboard shining in every room in the ship. He also remembered an agent named Carolina, her vibrant red hair making his heart leap and her teal armor reminding him of… something. Washington and Carolina, the two agents that kept resurfacing in his head.

The most cherished memory he had resurface was one of him laying down in his bed, the sound of soft piano playing from a speaker somewhere, and two people curled around him, sleeping contently. He couldn't make out their faces or remember their names, but Maine still felt a burning love for the two of them.

So he kept going.

* * *

 

_**And I guess it's just as well** _

_**But I miss your face like hell**_

* * *

 

It hit him in a bar.

He was somewhere on the outskirts of the colonized galaxy. It was a rundown dive bar in the middle of nowhere on a forgotten planet, but it still had a working TV and beer, so it wasn't all too bad. There were only a few other patrons in the bar, a man drunkenly singing shanties to himself on the other side of the counter, and a couple of men in the back, playing pool.

Maine had a beer in his hand, the cold frost of the bottle felt like daggers seeping through his skin. He had taken off most of his armor, leaving himself more exposed, but also more comfortable in the middle of the run-down setting. He took another swig, gulping down the dark lager, and satisfiedly thumping it back down. In the dark glass, he could faintly make out his own face.

His hair had started to grow back when he had first left the mysterious voice a few years ago, and now it had returned to its state from before he joined the army. It was thick and dark, parted on the side and swept to one or the other. It didn't look natural to him, being so accustomed to seeing his bare head, but it at least hid his identity. It was very hard to disappear when there was a giant tattoo on the back of your head signifying who you were. Maine also noticed his face looked different, less flushed out with strength and more domesticated, soft around the edges. His eyes drifted back up to watch the television.

He watched without any real attention to the story and the newscaster, until the channel began to fizz out. Maine perked up with interest as the seemingly normal feedback turned into a different video. His eyes glazed over when he made out a figure among the new video, an AI.

“Hi. My name is Epsilon,” it started, going off into a speech about a planet named Chorus. Maine’s body began to ache, a part of his mind screaming at him to charge at the TV to reach into it and grab the AI straight from the pixels. However, the newer half of his mind, the part that was remembering, held him back.

It flipped through a couple of videos, a picture of a news headline, and a few very gruesome images of the war that the AI was talking about. Maine couldn't help but be drawn to some of the figures in the images. Then the video began to flip through images of some soldiers, and Maine’s eyes widened. They were the soldiers that were attacking him when he was working with the other prisoner. That time was still fuzzy, he couldn't even make out the person he was tracking down ε with. He remembered feeling an unrelenting rage against the soldiers that had tried to kill him when he was first remembering, but he had forgiven them somewhat in his new state. They were simulation troopers, just trying to protect their friend. It still made his skin crawl seeing their faces. He kicked back his beer for the last few swigs.

But then it happened. Maine slammed his beer back into the counter, sending the glass flying in a million different directions. His eyes were glued to the screen, which were tearing up in a fit of passion, ignoring the yelps from the extremely drunk man on the other side of the counter. There they were, different, but still them. Washington, no, David, was looking into the camera, smug grin wiped across his face. He still had bags under his eyes, but they were deeper and more exaggerated. His freckles weren't as prominent, but Maine could still make them out. He had a couple new scars, a large one bridging across one side of his nose, and one gracing his eyebrow with a split down the middle. Then Carolina, but she was _smiling_ , and her hair was cut short. She also had a couple new scars, like one that split her lip at the bottom and one on the side of her chin. They were both so beautiful, and alive, and Maine remembered _everything._

He remembered first meeting them without their helmets and sitting down to talk about the mission at hand. Maine remembered feeling red faced and anxious around his smaller roommate, gaining a new crush on him after he had given him a pair of cat ears, claiming he’d “look cute in them”. He remembered getting his ass handed to him by Carolina and _liking_ it. He remembered reading with them in the middle of the night, all huddled around a single lamp, when none of them could sleep. He remembered waking up and finding them both curled up around him, both the victims of nightmares. He definitely remembered them both leaving his quarters that morning red faced and blubbering.

Then he remembered getting shot in the throat, a memory he had recovered earlier, but he now remembered waking up on a UNSC hospital ship, surrounded by the two, and getting greeted with two kisses on either cheek. He remembered staying on the ship for two days, and on the last day before he was released, the two coming in to his room and confessing to him. He remembered responding by hugging them close to him, and responding with a million and one kisses for the both of them. He never let them go after that. They unofficially all moved into Maine’s room, since he had the larger bed, and they all became situated. Everyone knew, he remembered, except York. He remained completely clueless the entire time, even when the Dakota twins spelled it out for him. He remembered laughing with them, loving them, and holding the feeling of dying for them.

He was sobbing in the middle of a rundown bar in the middle of nowhere. The people playing pool in the back stopped, the drunk man warily started singing again, and Maine’s hand began to bleed where the glass had cut him. The bartender came out from the kitchen in the back and saw Maine.

“What the fuck?” He asked, a weird semi-Southern drawl escaping his lips, “What did you do?”

Maine turned to the man, his eyes still welling with tears, “I need to go find them.” His throat ached with the words, the first he had spoken since he was saved by the mysterious voice. He put twenty credits on the table, pushed off the stool, and left the bar.

He had never cried before in his life, until then.

* * *

**_Rivers and roads, rivers and roads,_ **

**_Rivers 'til I reach you_ **


	2. Chapter 2

It took a lot of effort to find Chorus. Maine had tried to pull strings with the man with the mysterious voice, but he was suddenly unavailable. He had found the planet after the story had broke, when the UNSC had moved in to help assess the damages. Maine had moved into the capital city, setting himself up in some broken down apartment complex on the farthest outreach. The city wouldn't be moving that far in to clean up just yet, he had some time to look for his lovers. 

The search started small, just Maine by himself, wandering around the city. From the center, the city began to rebuild itself and reform. Everytime he had walked back into the inhabited regions, a new store had opened, or people began moving back into abandoned apartments. He didn't catch any leads until he was buying food at a small store, and he overheard a very loud, obnoxious conversation.

“But Charrrrliieee! We can't! Miss Kimball said we have to leave them  _ alone! _ ” A girl whined, a spitty lisp escaping her mouth, “They just want to retire, I don't blame them.”

“I do! They just up and leave without telling us? Again?!? I can't deal with that!” Charlie responded, “C’mon Katie, don't you want to go check up on them? Say hi to our guys in red and blue?”

That peaked Maine’s interest. He grabbed his bag of food, and inconspicuously sat down at a table nearby.

“But they want to be left alone, it's a very simple thing to request,” Katie urged on, “We can at least respect that!”

“No we can't!” Charlie yelled, “They left us AGAIN!! They left us, took their freelancer buddies, and  _ bounced. _ They didn't respect us, so I'm not gonna sit around here and do that for them.” 

That was all Maine needed to hear, his suspicions confirmed. The two armed conversationalists were talking about the reds and blues, but more importantly, about  _ his  _ reds and blues. He stood from his table, grabbing the metal chair he had been sitting in, and walked over to the two. He plopped the seat down next to them, and sat in its place. The two soldiers stopped talking, and looked over at the intimidatingly large man.

“Uhh… hi?” Charlie responded to Maine’s intrusion.

“Where are they.” He growled, but not intentionally. His throat was still healing after several years of unuse. 

Katie gulped, “W-who?”

“The reds and blue,” Maine responded, coughing out his words, “Where.”

“Um, big guy, we don't actually know. Their location is kept pretty secret.” Charlie responded, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table.

“Who knows.”

“Kimball probably does,” a third party interjected behind Maine. He turned around to find a similarly armored man with orange highlights.

“Where is she.” He growled again.

“She’s right here.” Maine flipped around a final time to a fourth voice, this time from where he was originally looking. He found another armored fighter with light blue highlights. Her helmet was off, and her hands were on her hips. She held confidence in her posture, but looked like she had been through hell and back. Her long black hair had been tied back into a ponytail, and she was staring intensely into his eyes. 

“I need to find them,” he started, coughing even harder. He subconsciously signed,  _ Sorry,  _ and was surprised to find Kimball signing back.

_ If you’d rather talk in sign as to not hurt your voice, I do not mind _ , She replied,  _ Now, who are you and what do you want with the reds and blues. _

Maine thought for a while, deciding on what to tell the woman in front of him. After deciding what parts to hold back, like Sidewinder and most of Freelancer, he shot into rapid sign, explaining the circumstances. He knew his sign was sloppy and chopped, but he felt himself speed up even more, rushing through the basic details of what happened. As he did, he could hear the three soldiers behind him talking.

“What are they doing?” Katie piped up.

“Interpretive dance? I don't know, Bitters, what are they doing?”

Bitters sniffled, fully understanding the romantic and tragic story being laid out in front of him in sign. “They're just… talking,” his voice cracked.

Once Maine was done, wrapping up his story with a final emphasis on one aspect: his connection to Carolina and Wash, he nodded to Kimball. Kimball had sat down during his story, nodding as he explained major parts. 

She then turned to her side and spoke out loud, “Santa, was all of that true?”

A red figure appeared beside her in the form of a Sangheili, “Yes, but he withheld some information on the project he was working for, and how he was separated from the reds and blues. However, his mind is also not as whole as it once was, he was the inhibitor for many AI in the past. Would you like to know what he fears?”

Kimball stared Maine down, “Why not.”

“Surprisingly not me, he seems to want to both steal me and not steal me at the same time. He is currently afraid of what he once was.”

“Which was?”

“The Meta.”

Suddenly, Maine’s ears were assaulted by the loud clattering of metal objects. He bewilderedly looked to the side to find the three soldiers cowering behind a newly formulated wall of chairs and tables.

“Watch o-out, ma’am!” Katie shouted, her voice quivering, “He’s got the strength of ten bears!”

“No, twenty!” Charlie piped in.

“Jensen, Palomo, Bitters, get out here.” Kimball sighed, “Santa, he’s no longer this ‘meta’, correct?”

“No,” Santa replied, “but he isn't quite entirely himself yet either. However, I believe he can be trusted.”

“And why do you suppose that?” Kimball asked.

“He is not only very closely connected with both Agents Carolina and Washington,” Santa explained, “He is in love with them.”

Palomo and Jensen both let out confused remarks, while Bitters loudly exclaimed, “Ohhhhh!” Kimball raised an eyebrow, but then smiled.

“They… I believed they talked about you,” Kimball vaguely responded, “Those two were very close, but they always talked about a third party that was in their lives. But they believed he was dead.”

_ They all think I am, _ Maine explained,  _ The UNSC helped me after rescuing me, but I’ve been on my own for a long time. However, I've finally remembered everything I've forgotten.  _ He sighed,  _ I just want to go home to them. _

Bitters burst into tears behind them, “Oh my GOD this is so much better than my soaps.”

“Your… soaps?” Palomo questioned, “Goddamn man, aren't you supposed to be a maverick?”

“DON’T JUDGE ME YOU WANNABE TRYHARD,” Bitters shouted.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” Kimball snapped, “Agent Maine, the reds and blues have asked to not be disturbed by anyone else while they… retire. I do not know if this applies to you.” Maine sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair. 

“But…” Kimball tapped her finger on her chin, “If this information were to  _ somehow _ be sent to a random ship on the planet, direct coordinates to their location, simply on accident… that’d be a real shame.” Maine perked his head up again, feeling his heart flush with hope.

“Santa,” Kimball turned to the AI, “Find this man’s ship in the city, I'm guessing it will be one that has not been logged by us yet, and send it the classified coordinates.”

“Of course,” the AI blinked out of existence, and Kimball turned back to Maine.

_ Send them our love, would you? _ She signed to him, patting him on the shoulder. He nodded in response, giving her a soft smile. He stood from the table, collecting his belongings, and off-handedly saluting the woman in front of him. Maine turned to the soldiers, who were just then escaping their protective barriers, and gave them a small wave. Just as he was about to leave, he felt a tight embrace around him. His head swiveled to find the orange accented soldier hugging him closely.

“I believe in you, sir.” The man choked out, “Go get ‘em. And please don't tell Grif I acted like this.” Maine wearily nodded, gently pushing the smaller man off of him. 

As he walked away, he heard Palomo yell, “WHO’S THE KISS ASS NOW?” A smile tugged at his lips.

He returned back to his ship before nightfall, settling into the half blown-up apartment space he had outfitted for himself. He had a campfire on the outside of the broken wall with a chair next to it, and on the other side of the rubble was a mat and blankets. Maine settled down in his chair beside the fire pit, opening the bag of food he had gotten himself. 

He fished out a piece of fruit, something he hadn't seen before on this planet yet, but something he desperately craved. He picked a golden apple with a shiny exterior. He stared into its rich color and thought of Washington, the man who could seemingly make fruit appear out of thin air. He took a bite out of the side and savored the delectable tastes on his tongue. Once he was done with his snack, it was time to get up, and get a move on. 

He entered his ship, turning on the main interface and opening the coordinates that had been sent to him. The ship immediately inputted the location, and auto-prepared itself for liftoff. Maine didn't have to press a button, so he sat back, and let himself sigh. He was finally going home.

The ship raised into the air from the ground, then shifted its turbines forward, and the craft took off. It made its way into Chorus’ orbit, then off into space. Surrounding the planet were countless UNSC ships, which were left there to supposedly “help” with the rebuilding of Chorus. However, Maine knew better, and he understood that those ships were there to make sure that the UNSC would be able to make that planet into one of their colonies.

The ship cruised around the larger crafts, and then set itself upon a path in the middle of the sea of space. Once it set itself, the ship warmed up, and jumped into hyperspace. Maine remembered being terrified by this experience the first time he was in the MOI, clinging onto the walls for dear life. Now, he knew the protocol for these devices, and sat back as he jumped through the wormhole. He was soon deposited back out into space, his ship circling around a blue and brown planet. 

The ship sped forward, increasing in on the planet on an angle, entering the many layers of atmosphere below. His ship parted through clouds of varying thickness, and then through rough patches of turbulence. Soon, the ship broke through the final layer, and was cruising at plane height above the water. Maine looked down at the water rushing beneath him, but it was soon swept up by land. He watched in wonder as the ship slowed down and landed softly on the earth beneath him. He waited until the ship stopped completely before turning it off and opening the latch doors. He got out of the pilot’s seat, but hesitated to exit the vehicle. He looked over to the side of the ship, where he had haphazardly thrown his helmet. Slowly, he picked it up and returned it to his head. He didn't want the planet’s air to be poisonous, and for him to learn the hard way. Once the helmet was locked in place, Maine opened the main doors to the ship. With one mighty step, he exited onto the soft green grass.

He looked out to the scene in front of him, and it was breathtaking. A small beach running along the side of the plateau he had landed on, and a beautiful mountain range running along the other. He slowly climbed the hill in front of him, anxious to find where Wash and Carolina were. He reached the top of the hill and looked out. He found what he was looking for, two apartment-style buildings in the middle of nowhere, hastily decorated with random red and blue decor. 

Maine took two steps forward, his heart leaping into his throat, but stopped at the sound of guns cocking.

“Don't move,” a painfully familiar voice said, “Turn around.” Maine did as he said, restraining himself to not fling his body onto the smaller man. In front of him was Washington and Carolina, in the flesh. They weren't even armored, dressed in bathing suits and towels, but they had their guns drawn on him. Maine wanted to leap forward, to hug and kiss them with everything he had, but he kept still. His eyes flicked to the both of them, admiring them in his current stagnant state. Washington was toned, more than before in Freelancer, and he looked more relaxed than he did in the photo Maine saw on TV. He was wearing gunmetal grey swim shorts with yellow stripes down the sides, because of course he did. Carolina also looked much more relaxed, a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on her head, and a towel wrapped around her waist. She had a look in her eyes of pure abhorrence towards whoever interrupted her relaxation.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Carolina hissed, pointing her gun further. Maine raised his arms, unable to speak. As Carolina aimed even higher, Maine’s hands shot to his helmet. She was taken aback by the sudden movement, but allowed him to continue. He clicked the helmet off by turning it quickly to the side, and removed it from his head. He dropped it to the ground, and put his arms back at his side. He watched as Wash’s eyes widened and Carolina took a step back in realization. Maine didn't smile, he just looked at them. Carolina’s eyes drew over his face with confusion and bewilderment, while Wash just watched, slack-jawed. Wash was the first to react, his throat got caught on a sob, and his eyes began to water.

“But you…” he said, shakily, “you… on Sidewinder…” He was frozen in place, staring at Maine with the look of a kicked puppy. 

Carolina’s expression went blank with shock, her mouth softly agape as she stared him down, “I-,” she began, but Maine cut her off by raising a single finger. 

“I remembered,” was all Maine was able to say, until he was tackled down by both of the Freelancers, who had both broken into sobs.

He was home.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost immediately after being tackled, Maine found himself on the move. He was being led by the duo away from the landing sight, towards the bases, but then quickly averted to the side, closer to the mountains. Wash and Carolina pulled Maine towards the peaks and into a small opening at the base of the mountains. It was a small cavern, pooling with water that had fallen from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a circle of chairs, all mismatched and uncoordinated. Maine was promptly pushed into a plastic lawn chair.

He was about to open his mouth, although his throat was protesting against it, but he couldn't think of any words. He sat in the chair silently, looking up at his two partners. Wash still looked shocked, but also overwhelmingly happy. Carolina was on the verge of tears again. After a few minutes of unadulterated silence, Carolina moved forward and softly raised her hand to his face.

With extreme caution, she reached out to touch him. She delicately landed her fingers on his cheek, and stroked his face. Maine nuzzled into it, sighing, his heart was aching at the touch. Then he felt another touch on his other cheek, but it was different. A soft pair of lips were pressed gently to his face, kissing him with such tenderness. Maine reached up and grabbed Wash’s hand, holding it tightly in his own. Wash pulled his face away, but kept his hand there. He reached over with his free hand to grab a chair, and sat down in front of his boyfriend. Carolina followed, not daring to move her hand from his face.

“I was looking for you, searching,” he rasped, “for such a long time. In here.” He used his free hand to tap his forehead. 

“Was it Sigma?” Carolina asked, her voice turning cold and still. Maine nodded, and he felt Carolina’s hand leave his face. He looked down to see Carolina looking at him in pain.

“It's my fault,” she whispered, “I gave you that damn AI and- I'm so sorry, Maine.” She clenched her fists, her eyes fell down to the floor.

“Not your fault,” he smiled, but was cut off by a volley of coughs. 

“You just wanna sign for now, big guy?” Wash asked, squeezing his hand tighter. Maine nodded, pulling his hand away from the smaller man’s grasp.

_ We have a lot to talk about,  _ Maine signed, sighing softly. However, before he could continue, he was interrupted by a loud metal object dropping near the front of the cavern. Maine looked around Carolina to the source of the noise, and both of the freelancers in front of him whipped around. Standing in the opening was a dark-skinned man, his expression full of confusion. He was wearing swim shorts and was completely drenched in water, a towel hung from his neck, unused. On the floor was a folding chair.

“Wash?” The voice called out, anxiously, “Who’s that?”

“Tucker!” Washington threw himself to his feet, blocking the other man’s view of his boyfriend, “Why aren’t you with the others? I thought you would’ve been another few hours!”

“We’re all coming back in, everyone’s tuckered out,” the man responded, “Bow chicka bow-wow.” Wash threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, and turned to Carolina. He shrugged his shoulders towards Tucker, and Carolina sighed.

“Guess you should round everybody up in fifteen minutes, we’ve got to introduce you all. We’ll meet you in the living room, blue base.” Carolina called back out to the man. He looked suspiciously back at Maine, narrowing his eyes, as if he could barely recognize him.

“Sure. I'll get everybody.” He confirmed, slowly turning back to exit the cavern. Carolina sighed, turning back to Maine. 

“Guess that means that we’ll have to explain this whole mess to the gang,” Carolina huffed, but a smile drew across her face,”We gotta do this right though, or they’ll freak out.”

... _ Why?  _ Maine signed. The duo both paused midway through their movements to stand, turning back around to the larger freelancer.

“You… do know who that was, right? Who the people we are with are?” Wash questioned.

_ Yes, they’re the Reds and Blues, the ones who were holding the Epsilon unit. I remember us fighting briefly, but I don’t remember much. Then I fell off a cliff…  _ Maine struggled to remember, his forehead curling in thought.  _ They were fighting whatever Sigma had made me into, I wasn’t even there yet. I hadn’t begun to remember. _

“I could tell,” Wash responded, his eyes growing cloudy and restless, “You weren’t yourself. I thought I had lost you completely.”

Suddenly, Maine’s hands were around Wash’s bare shoulders, “You were there??” He choked out, before coughing violently again. 

“You- You don’t remember?” Wash looked up, “I was that other soldier, we were trying to recover the Epsilon unit together. I… I thought you were completely gone. After what happened to-” but Wash stopped himself, flinching backwards as if he had just skimmed an unsavory topic.

_ What happened.  _ Maine signed,  _ I didn’t… I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?  _ Maine looked up in silence, watching the expressions of the two freelancers. Wash looked away quickly, shielding his terrible poker face away from his lover. Carolina looked at him knowingly, forgivingly. He knew exactly what it meant.

“I’m sorry,” He rasped, “I’m so, so sorr-” But he was cut off again. Carolina had thrown her arms around Maine, hugging him close. Her strong grasp on Maine meant one thing only:

“It’s ok, It wasn’t you,” Carolina whispered, “I knew it wasn’t you and I  _ never  _ stopped loving you. No matter what that bastard AI did.” Maine felt his eyes began to heat up again, but his attention was drawn to Wash, who had also joined the cuddle puddle.

“He was kinda fucked up,” Wash chuckled, his voice cracking with silent tears, “but  _ you’re  _ the one who came back.  _ You  _ were the one who survived.” 

Maine quickly turned to the both of them, kissing both of their cheeks in a fit of passion and appreciation. His ears were blessed with the sound of soft giggling and calm sighs.

“You have-” Wash spoke between chuckles, “You have scruff now- Hell, you have a head of HAIR!” He exclaimed, reaching up and tussling the larger man’s untamed hair.

“What about you?” He responded, scratching his partner’s beard. Wash fell into a kick of laughter.

“I don’t know what came over me to grow it, but I can’t seem to let it go!” He responded, melting into Maine’s scratches.

“I, for one, won’t let him.” Carolina smirked, wrapping her arm around Wash. Maine just responded by stroking back the woman’s incredibly short hair.

“Haa yeah… that. I thought I might change things up for a little bit,” She gestured to her hair, “Someone on the reds told me a new hairdo would make it easier to ‘sit down and fucking relax for once’. So I let him cut it.”

_ Maybe I should let him cut mine,  _ Maine signed back.

“Nooo why?” Washington protested, “I think it suits you!” Maine felt his face blush, but he had to hold his ground. He shook his head and signed,  _ Uncomfortable _ .

“Fair,” Wash grunted, sitting up from their relaxed daze, “Well, we might as well head back. They probably all gathered up and are waiting for us.”

Carolina groaned when she stood, “Grif was right when he said I needed a cuddle buddy to relax with, that few minutes right there was  _ heaven _ . Thanks Maine.” Maine stood last, no longer restricted by his smaller lovers, and grunted in affirmation with a smile.

“I keep telling you, I was right here the whole time!” Wash raised his voice again as they walked towards the exit, “You could’ve said the word and I would’ve been in bed with you the whole day!” Carolina looked at him, raising her eyebrow with a smirk.

“NOT LIKE THAT!” Wash’s voice raised another octave, and Maine began to laugh. It took all of the strength of the smaller freelancers to not stop their partner just to hear that laugh even more, something they had both missed for years. Maine missed it himself, too, getting caught up in the humor and love all three of them output. 

“Hun, I could listen to you laugh for days,” Wash admitted, and Maine’s heart leapt into his throat. He had forgotten Wash’s pet name for him, how could he forget something as amazing as that?

The three exited the cavern, and Maine shielded his eyes to become readjusted to the intense light outside. He followed the two as they walked over to the apartment complexes and opened a screen door on the side of the blue building. As Carolina and Wash entered, they both patted the head of a blue stone dog statue on the side of the base. Maine felt compelled to do the same. 

To say the interior of the blue base was eccentric was an understatement. There were random objects and furniture hastily painted blue, as well as many other weird animal sculptures around the space. Maine looked closely at one of the sculptures, a bright blue turtle, and engraved on the base was ‘Freckles DCLIII’. He turned his head back, confused; there was  _ no way  _ that 653 of these things were laying around. Regardless, he continued on. He realized they were walking through a dining and kitchen space, almost completely full of the blue kick-knacks and empty coffee mugs. 

Eventually, they made it through the maze, and walked through an open archway into the hallway. Wash beckoned Maine further down the base. They walked in silence as Maine observed the walls of the hallway. There were drawings everywhere, all done in crayon, and all signed ‘Caboose’. Occasionally he could spot a Washington or a Carolina (at least one the same color as her armor) amongst the figures, but Maine paused in the middle of the hallway. He was focused in on one image, which had caught his eye immediately.

It was him. He was tied up and laying down as the blue trooper stood on top of him. In the background was Washington and a couple other blue and red soldiers. Scribbled across the top was a triumphant ‘Victory’ in orange crayon. Maine didn’t know how to feel about it. He knew it wasn’t  _ him  _ in the picture, but it definitely struck him odd looking at his armor. He was slowly starting to formulate why Washington said they needed to “play this out right”.

Maine didn't realize how long he had been staring at the drawing, since when he turned around, Wash and Carolina were already entering a room at the end of the hall. Maine walked onwards to where they were leading, and entered the door Wash was holding open for him.

“Oh  _ HELL _ NO!” His ears were assaulted by a shrill voice, “NOT HIM! THERE IS NO WAY THAT  _ HE’S  _ HERE RIGHT NOW.” He looked up to see an extremely pale man with vibrant red hair staring at him in horror. Maine was taken aback, both by the man’s quick assertion, and the fact that half of his body was cybernetic. It was definitely an odd welcome.

“... uh, Simmons?” A larger, dark-skinned man asked from across the room, who was lounged in a reclining chair, “we just… met the guy?”

Simmons whipped back in horror, and before Washington could realize the situation and stop him, shouted, “It's the  _ Meta _ !” Almost immediately, the room erupted into chaos. Wash and Carolina stood protectively in front of Maine, while an older man charged forward with a shotgun produced from, seemingly, thin air. The ginger hadn't moved a muscle, but the larger man moved incredibly fast to shield him. On the other side of the room, Maine recognized the man from before, who had drawn an actual  _ sword _ and was guarding yet another man behind him, who was staring at Maine with childlike eyes. 

“Everybody stop!” Wash commanded, “We can explain, just sit. Your. Asses. DOWN.” The commotion in the room did not quell. The older man was still trying to break through Carolina and Wash’s body barrier, screaming nonsense at Maine. The man with the sword advanced by just a step, and the larger man was tying his hair up in preparation for a fight. Maine couldn't do anything but stand still, a look of bewilderment plastered on his face.

It wasn't until Carolina howled, “SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” did the individual parties begin to back off. The sword-guy, Tucker, if Maine’s memory served him right, backed down first, sheathing the blade with a button press. The larger man sighed with exasperation, and sat down next to the ginger, who was now blushing like a tomato. The older man didn't move an inch, until Carolina looked him straight in the eyes, piercing him with a look of pure annoyance. The man grumbled, removing his hand from the trigger of the gun, and moving backwards. Seeing his seat next to the ginger was stolen, he threw his arms up with a grunt, and sat down in the reclining seat on the other side.

“Ok.. that’s better.” Wash sighed, “This is going to be complicated to explain, but I am willing to stay here for as long as it takes.”

“Me too,” Carolina added, “Simmons, you’re correct. This is Agent Maine, formerly known as the Meta. However, it has come to our understanding that he is no longer under the influence of his AI, Sigma.” 

The group all looked at Maine, who was immediately overwhelmed by the increased amount of eyes on him.

Simmons squinted his eyes, “What if he’s tricking us?”

“He’s not.” Carolina responded.

“How would you know?”

“I just-,” Carolina looked up at Maine, her face flushing over with happiness, “I just know. I saw him as the Meta, and he was different. He’s back to who he was before. He’s back to Maine.”

Maine heard a soft gasp from across the room, and he unlatched his eyes from his girlfriend. Entering the room was a very small, but buff man. He was wearing a pink tracksuit and had a hairband in his hair. His face lit up with excitement, and he rushed forward into the room.

“A visitor??” He exclaimed, running up to Maine and taking his hand into a firm handshake, “Why didn’t anyone tell me we had guests?”

“Donut, watch out!” The older man exclaimed, “That man’s a menace!” That one made Maine wince.

“Aww Sarge, what are you talking about? He just came into our home and you’re already making presumptions?” the pink man chimed, giving Maine a reassuring pat on the back.

“Donut? Where were you- Tucker did you not get  _ everybody  _ like I asked?” Wash exclaimed.

“I swear to god, I just forgot he existed,” Tucker responded, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Is anyone else noticing that Donut, of all people, is right next to the Meta and not getting pummeled?” The larger man chirped in. The group turned back to Donut, still cheerfully standing by Maine’s side.

“Grif is right, is… is he really ok now?” Simmons asked, inching forward. Maine felt it was finally ok for him to speak.

“I-” he started, but felt his throat pulse in disagreement, “I don’t expect forgiveness. But I’m not the Meta. I’m Maine.” 

“He can TALK??” Grif lurched forward, almost tumbling off the couch.

“He sounds like Grif after he’s smoked a pack too many,” Simmons said under his breath, not intending for anyone to hear, but Maine made it out crystal-clear. 

“He can, but it’s very taxing.” Wash explained, “So I’ll probably just translate his sign language for you all until we find a better way to communicate. But as of this moment, he’ll be staying with us.” He looked up at Maine, “He has nowhere else to go, and he’s family to us.”

“Let’s pull up a few chairs and we can talk about this more,” Carolina chimed in, “Answer any questions you may have.”

“And please get some real clothes on so I can take you seriously, hmm?” Grif commented, gesturing to Washington and Carolina’s bathing suits. 

“Sure,” Carolina half-chuckled, “but no one leave, we want you all here so we can get this settled.”

As the group resettled, the three exited the living room to grab chairs and better clothes from another part of the house. Maine was led upstairs, and down another long hallway of doors. They entered a room that Maine assumed was Washington’s, almost identically decorated to the one on the MOI. There was a cat poster hanging over the desk, three succulent plants at the window, and string lights lining the top of the room. He sat in silence as the two quickly changed, grabbing whatever clothes were lying around in the room. Maine couldn’t help but notice the new scars they had acquired as they changed, but he averted his eyes as much as he could for privacy. Once they were done, Carolina opened the door, and Wash grabbed Maine’s hand. They all walked together, in a peaceful silence, back down to the main hallway. Carolina grabbed three fold out chairs from a closet, and they began to walk back to the group. Before they made it all the way back, Maine stopped. He held the grip on Wash’s hand tighter, making him stop as well.

“Hey, what’s up?” Wash turned around, looking concerned.

“Afraid,” was all he could say, his throat unable to speak cohesive sentences anymore.

“Hun, there is nothing to worry about,” Washington soothed, putting his hand to Maine’s cheek, “I promise you, they’ll understand. Hell, they trust me now after everything I’ve done to them. You know that pink dude in there? Donut? I  _ shot  _ him and he trusts me. I still can’t believe it to this day. These guys are good- they’re good with second chances. Believe me.” Maine still felt a pit of weariness in his stomach, but he loosened his grip and trudged forward. He trusted Wash and Carolina with all he had, he could trust them with this too. They entered the room together, hit with the sudden sound of rapid conversation amongst the soldiers.

As they laid out the chairs and got themselves situated for the conversation of a lifetime, Donut was the only one who noticed Maine and Washington holding hands for two seconds when they entered the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this isnt a fluff week fic anymore really because fluff week has passed! Its still gonna be pure fluff tho, dont get me wrong. Enjoy~

It had been a couple weeks now, and Maine’s memory was bouncing back ten times quicker than before. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with Wash and Carolina being there, but he liked to believe that was the reason. In the last few days, he had remembered entire periods of his life, like his time in Basic or becoming wrapped up in freelancer. He even remembered specific days or moments with his lovers, like one particular period of time where Wash and Maine were teaching Carolina sign. They had been in a relationship for only a couple weeks then, but if they were going to make it work, Carolina wanted to learn their “secret” little language. Maine remembered her picking it up quickly, and his heart dancing with the prospect of being able to talk with her even more intimately. 

Back when he was remembering, he was a nameless wanderer who woke up in cold sweats and dreamt only of nightmares. He woke up this morning to warmth all around him, and a soft kiss being placed on his cheek.

“Mornin’ Maine,” Maine peaked his eyes open so see Carolina lying next to him, nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Mornin’,” he rasped.

“Don't talk, it hurts you,” she whispered, pressing her fingers gently to his neck. His wounds didn't ache anymore, but Carolina’s cold fingertips made them sing with bliss.

“Mhmm,” he replied, smiling. The two were interrupted by a weak snore, followed by a loud snort, from behind Maine. He didn't even realize the second ball of warmth curled around him.

Maine released his hands from underneath the covers to sign,  _ Did he sneak in here again? _

“Yes he did. Seriously Maine, he needs to get over himself and just move in already.” Carolina chuckled, “He can't be  _ that  _ attached to blue base.”

“Caboose would fucking  _ die  _ if I left blue base,” Washington mumbled, rousing himself from sleep.

“Sleeping beauty lives,” Carolina smirked, reaching over and tussling her boyfriend’s hair.

“Mmff, I should get back over there before they all wake up. Wouldn't want them suspecting anything.”

“You've been going back and forth between bases in your pajamas for weeks now. They know something is up.”

“But not… like… this.” Wash gestured between the three of them. Maine turned back over, lifting the other man up and over so he curled into his arm. Carolina followed on the opposite side.

“We’ll tell them. One day.” Carolina responded, sighing into Maine’s chest, “They're all very understanding. And everyone has been opening up ever since Doc and Donut came out.”

“Ok but it was so painfully obvious, and I’m not one for noticing those kinds of things.”

“Do you know Grif and Simmons are totally getting it on?”

Maine felt Wash leave his side suddenly, and looked up to see him propped up on the bed, “Really?? Those two?”

“... you don't see it?”

Maine grunted, he never really liked gossip, but he was still getting used to names and faces and felt left out. Plus, all of their jabber was tiring. Wash got the message and sunk back down.

“God, Maine, I could stay here all day,” Carolina yawned, stretching herself out beside him.

“Why not?” he suggested, keeping his voice down to not agitate his wounds. Saying Maine was touch-starved was an understatement, and both of them were there with him. He might as well take a shot.

“... y'know what? Let's stay here for a bit longer. Get up whenever we feel like it, or until our stomachs pull us downstairs for breakfast.” Carolina stated.

“Blues can't get mad because I'm their leader and I make the ruuules.” Wash said, softly and sleepily. 

“And since I think the reds have adopted me, and Sarge has no control over my life, I'm good.” Carolina responded, equally as tired. The two nodded off in the larger freelancers arms, and he was frozen solid.

A sudden wave of emotions attacked him, both good and bad. He was just so happy to see them, so very happy. Except, a nagging part at the back of his brain screamed at him that this was all wrong, and that they shouldn't be accepting him like this, and that he didn't deserve it. His stomach churned with the feeling of guilt, but he stopped thinking when a hand moved up and rested on his stomach. Wash was there, curled against him and fast asleep again. His hand absentmindedly stroked the freelancer’s chest, soothing him almost instantly. It was a simple feeling, but it let him free. It was almost tripled when he felt his arm getting tugged by Carolina. He looked to the side to see her wrapped up against his arm, sleeping softly.

He thought back to the bar, where he had seen them, their actual faces. There was so much joy and love and pain in that moment alone, and Maine felt like he was still recovering from it. At least he was recovering in between them.

* * *

“Wash where were you?” Tucker groaned, sitting at the breakfast table, drinking a mug of coffee. Three other cups were laid out in front of him, which Maine and Washington accepted happily.

Wash looked at the third cup left wearily, “Why would you make Caboose a coffee?”

“That's another for me, and don't change the subject!” Tucker exclaimed, hitting back the last gulp of his drink.

“I had to… talk with the other freelancers. About… freelancer stuff.” Maine slapped his forehead, Washington was terrible at lying.

“Not only am I not going to believe that, but I also can't believe why you’d do that at two AM.”

“How did you know it was at two?” Wash questioned, his voice raising an octave.

“Dude, you woke me up by breaking something, cursing, stomping down the hall, and breaking another thing.” Tucker was counting on his fingers the list of disturbances.

“That's fair.” Wash groaned, “Sorry about that.” The three sat in silence, drinking their warm drinks as they heard the tell-tale signs of Caboose waking up. There were lots of “good-morning”s to inanimate objects involved.

“You guys…” Tucker started, but stopped himself.

“What?” Wash asked, barely hearing what Tucker was saying.

“Are you two fucking?” Maine almost spat out his coffee and Wash had turned three shades of red too deep in under a second.

“W-what?” Wash asked, terrified. 

“You two go off on your own all the time, stick around each other like your glued together, and Wash sneaks over there at night every other day. You're not subtle.”

“That's private information!” Wash squeaked.

“I'm not trying to intrude, man, but if you are, just stay over there and don't come and go by sneaking around all the time. Either sleep there, or have Maine stay here.”

“He can’t, my bed is too small.” 

“... So you  _ are  _ sleeping with him.” Tucker grinned as he caught Wash in his well-laid-out trap.

“We’re- wait, Tucker-” Wash bumbled, tripping over his words as gracefully as he could.

“Morning Agent Washington! Morning Agent Maine! Morning-... Tucker.” Caboose stuck his tongue out at his teal teammate. The sim-trooper sat down at the table with a happy bounce, his bunny slippers squeaking as the squeakers hit the floor. 

“Morning, Caboose.” Washington sighed, laying his hand back on his coffee. Maine waved to Caboose, giving him a soft smile. The picture that Caboose had drawn was still etched in his memory, and it felt like it was his duty to be as friendly as possible.

“Now, Tucker,” Wash turned his attention back to the other man, who was sipping his coffee loudly, his eyebrows cocked, “We are not… being intimate. But I do find myself over in the red base for… other reasons. I want to find a better way to leave here without disturbing you all, but I can’t move out.”

“Why not?” Caboose questioned, squeaking his bunny slippers on the tile, “You and Maine are best friends! And best friends should be with each other.”

“Caboose,” Wash smiled, “While that’s extremely sweet of you, the last time I left the base to go camping with Carolina, Tucker told me you had a breakdown.”

Caboose stopped his squeaking, “I… It was only a little one.” His smile fizzled. Wash followed suit, his face deflating as the man in front of him became ashamed.

“It’s not a big deal, Caboose. I don’t have to leave, and to be frank, I don’t really want to.” Wash moved his hand over to Caboose’s, which was laying on the table, “I’m not gonna move. Like I said, I just need to find a way to get over there without disturbing you all.”

Maine had just been a listener for the time being, slowly sipping away at his coffee as his boyfriend danced around the subject of their relationship. However, he suddenly had a moment of clarity. He laid down his mug, and turned to Wash.

_ What if I move over here?  _ Maine asked.

“I already told you, the bed is too small.”

_ I’ll bring my bed over here then. _

“But what about-” Wash stopped himself, converting his speech to sign,  _ What about Carolina? _

_ She’s sneaky. Sneakier than she’d like to admit to the reds. I think she could get over here without alerting them. She did it all the time to get to our room on the MOI. _

“That… may actually work.” Wash admitted.

“What may work?” Tucker asked, “Literally only the two of you know sign, I have no clue what’s happening.”

“I’ll have to talk with the reds, but I think Maine will be moving in with us instead.” Wash smiled at Maine, then turned back to the two, “If this is approved by the reds, which I really hope it will, I may need your help moving some of his stuff over.”

Caboose gasped, “Does that mean Agent Maine is blue now?”

Maine chuckled, giving in to the cobalt soldier’s enthusiasm, “Yeah.” His throat burned with use, but he shrugged it off. Suddenly, he was attacked by two bear arms around his neck, crushing him. It took all of his restraint to not push the new weight off, realizing it was Caboose hugging him.

“Welcome to the team!” Caboose whispered in his ear.

“I have to bring this up again, though.  _ Are _ you two fucking?” Tucker emphasized, starting on his second cup of joe. Maine sighed, like Carolina said, one day they’d sit down with the crew and explain, but today was not that day.

However, very quickly, fate had other plans and it became that day.

* * *

 

Maine now found himself in the red’s living room, almost identical to the base across the way, but with cohesive decor and a lingering scent of chocolate chip cookies. It was a little bit to homely for his liking, but Carolina was there, so he didn’t give a damn.

“You’re moving out, soldier?” Sarge boomed, “No less, to go and become a  _ blue _ ?”

“Technically, Sarge,” Carolina interjected, “Wash and I called dibs on him. He’s on team Freelancer, he’s not a red or blue.”

“Well! Um.. I! Wait no…” Sarge mumbled, trying to get his thoughts in order. However, it malformed into a desperate cry and angry ramble of fake words and grunts. 

“As long as we don’t have to move his stuff, I don’t mind.” Grif shrugged, laying back into Simmons more. The two were lounged out on the couch, completely tangled with one another. Maine could only question how Wash didn’t see their relationship together.

“You won’t, the blues are coming over to help move him out, so I expect you all to be on your best behavior.” Carolina stated, moving her hand to Maine’s back, “I’m going to go help him pack, you can do whatever it is you were doing before.”

“We were watching a movie. The one you paused. The one you sat down right in front of.” Grif lazily beckoned to the T.V. behind them. Carolina chuckled, spinning around and hitting play on the DVD player. She moved out of the way of the TV, dragging Maine along with her. 

The two walked through the base, moving upwards to where Maine was sleeping. He was given his own room, simply furnished with a dresser and a bed. In the first few supply runs he had been there for, the reds had gotten him better clothing, hygienic stuff, a larger bed with a huge comforter, and a better pillow. Since then, Maine had actually gotten to work on making it home, putting up a few drawings Caboose had made him, and mounting the Brute Shot on the wall. It had taken a lot of convincing Grif to let him have it back, but it was finally back in his possession. It just took the promise of Maine’s dessert for a lifetime to get it. He was lucky he didn’t like sweets. 

Maine grabbed one of the many mismatched cardboard boxes outside of his door, supplied by his good friends in blue, and got to work. He took down the drawings first, laying them delicately at the bottom of a box. He also put his custom-made blue dog sculpture, labeled “Freckles the Freelancer”, and his framed picture collection in the box. He hadn’t actually had a tangible picture of himself with his two lovers before, but now that he had one thanks to Simmon's camera eye, he was never going to let it go. 

Carolina worked beside him, gathering his clothes and putting them in larger boxes. He had acquired quite a wardrobe from the supply runs, the helpful people of Chorus sending him all plus size clothing they found. He had picked out what he wanted, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, etc., and sent the rest back to the planet. He only took what he really needed, except for one article of clothing. A slick leather jacket, barely worn. Carolina was holding it in her hands now, stroking the material with her thumbs.

“This is my favorite thing of yours,” she explained, “it suits you, very much so.”

_ Thank you _ , he signed, leaning in from his work to give her a kiss. Just as he laid his lips on hers, the door swung open.

“We’re here to move your shiiiiiiiii-” Tucker started, but stopped at the sight in front of him. Maine immediately pulled back, feeling his face heat up. Carolina swung around.

“But I thought- wait, hold on…” Tucker deciphered, “I thought you and Wash were a thing!”

“We are.” Carolina stated, oblivious to Tucker's accusatory finger pointed at Maine.

Tucker stood in the doorway, staring in disbelief, “Carolina… I was talking to Maine. What the hell is going on?!” Suddenly, a crash sounded underneath him, followed a quick “Tucker did it”.

“Shit, ok, let me go deal with that,” Tucker looked down the hallway, “You just… keep packing.”

“Yeah, sure.” Carolina agreed, waiting until Tucker fled the room. Then she flipped on Maine, “He saw you with Wash?”

_ He thought we were having sex when he snuck over to red base _ .

“That…” Carolina’s concerned face melted into humor, “is actually really funny.”

_ What do we do?  _ Maine questioned, peaking at the door every ten seconds, just in case.

“It depends. We’ll talk to Wash, because if they all become suspicious, we might as well tell them.”

_ Now??  _ Maine hurriedly signed,  _ We didn't tell anyone in Freelancer until months later. _

“Do you have a problem with telling them?” Carolina asked, returning back to her work. Maine thought for a while, also returning to packing. 

“No,” he rasped.

“Ok then, we’ll discuss it when we move you over there,” Carolina hummed. She stopped suddenly, and put her hand on Maine’s face, “and remember, no talking, it hurts you.”

“Hmm,” Maine responded, pulling his box off the dresser. 

Soon, Tucker was back with Caboose in hand, his arm bandaged tightly. He had slipped and fallen in the kitchen, bringing a porcelain plate with him, and had cut himself up. However, simply being Caboose, he had a smile on his face and the means to keep working. The two blues moved the mattress and bedframe to Maine’s new room, setting up the bed in the exact same spot it was in the old room. Maine carried over his belongings, and Carolina followed with the sheets for his bed. While the blues headed back to retrieve Maine’s dresser, Carolina pulled him to the side in blue base.

“Let's get Wash so we can talk about this, ok?” She whispered. Maine nodded in agreement. They both walked up to Washington's room, which was now across the hall from Maine’s. Carolina hesitantly opened the door, peeking inside. Wash was on his bed, tapping at a tablet over his head. He looked up to find the two in the doorway, and smiled widely.

“Moving in going well?” He asked, beckoning them both over. Carolina sat down on the side of the bed, while Maine sat at the end.

“Those two are just getting the dresser, then we’re done.” Carolina responded, pointing her thumb at the door, “Wash… we need to talk to you about something.”

Wash’s face faltered for a second, “What is it.”

_ Tucker saw us kiss, and now he’s suspicious,  _ Maine explained.

“... and he suspected us this morning,” Wash put together, “does that mean we should..?” 

“Only if you're comfortable with it. I know I've been ready the moment Maine came back, but I understand if the both of you needed time to adjust.” Carolina laid her hands on Maine's and Wash’s.

“I’m ready,” Maine whispered, keeping quiet as to not agitate his throat. Carolina gripped his hand tighter.

“I-” Wash started, gathering the attention of the other two freelancers, “I think I'm ready to tell them too. Regardless, If someone as oblivious as Tucker can catch on, then the rest of them are bound to as well.”

Maine smiled as his boyfriend’s face blossomed into happiness once again. The three sat for a second longer, making a silent pact between one another to resolve the situation at hand. Maine could see the trust radiating off of them.

They were cut off by a sharp knock on the door, “Hey you guys! We moved the cabinet and we’re all done. Me and Tucker are going to go play Wii downstairs. Join us if you want!” Caboose’s voice bounced merrily through the door.

“Sure Caboose, we’ll be there in a bit. And why not invite the reds too? I think we’re all up for a little friendly competition.” Carolina responded, already moving to get up.

“Okay!” Caboose said, before returning back down the hallway with loud steps. 

“Do we… want to do this now?” Wash asked, pulling himself off the bed, aided by Maine’s hand on his back.

_ Why not, _ Maine signed,  _ Seems like a perfect time, everyone will be together _ . 

“I think it's a perfect time, that's why I invited the reds. Are you both ready?” Carolina tugged them both close once they finally stood up, embracing them in a group hug.

“Yes,” they both said in unison, with Maine whispering his response. Carolina smiled, then leaned up and pecked them both on the lips.

“I don't know what I would do without you two,” she admitted, “my better halves.”

“Better thirds, you mean.” Wash pointed out.

Carolina laughed, “I guess I do, Wash.”

Wordlessly, Maine took both of their hands, and led them out of the room. They walked together down the stairs, their hands still tightly entwined, into the living room. The reds were already there, probably having rushed over at the sound of a Wii tournament. Caboose was struggling to set up the device and Tucker was trying to help him. The reds were fervently arguing about who should sit where, who should play what game, and how they were going to "destroy the dirty blues at their own game."

It reminded him of Freelancer, and with a happy sigh, Maine led the way into the room with everyone else. It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUCKER FUCKING K N O W S.word


End file.
